


(Never) Let Go

by justonelastdance



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Past Sexual Abuse, Post-Rescue from Thangorodrim, god got me ao3 account to write this trope over and over again until y'all get sick of me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:41:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28757505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justonelastdance/pseuds/justonelastdance
Summary: Steamy situation turns into something less steamy. Attempt no. 2
Relationships: Fingon | Findekáno/Maedhros | Maitimo
Comments: 14
Kudos: 55





	(Never) Let Go

The apprehension in Maedhros's eyes turns to elation, as he sees that the one who has come in without knocking is Fingon.

"Sorry," Fingon says sheepishly. " I have missed you so much that I forgot to knock."

"If you think that by saying sweet things like that, you will earn my forgiveness, then you are right," Maedhros says. "How was the patrol?"

"Boring. Everything was calm."

"Please don't sound so disappointed."

Fingon snorts. "I am not." He sits on the bed next to Maedhros. "How was your day, love?"

Maedhros shrugs. "As usual," he says and sighs in contentment as Fingon takes his hand and starts kissing his knuckles. "Breakfast, healers, potions, exercises, bath, lunch. Tried a few moves."

"Moves? Dance moves?" Fingon asks and jumps up, pulling Maedhros up too. He wraps his arms around his lover and rests his head against his shoulder, swaying from side to side. "I miss dancing with you."

Maedhros laughs. "Not dance moves. Sword moves. Stop being silly!"

"Oh, should I?" Fingon says, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to Maedhros's neck. "Are you sure?" He traces his lips along his jaw. "Are you completely certain?" He starts sucking on the soft skin above the collarbone, so easy to bruise.

Maedhros goes slack in his arms and throws his head back to give him better access to his throat, which Fingon immediately uses. He presses his already apparent hardness to Maedhros. He wants him to feel it, wants him to know how fast his proximity affects Fingon.

"In the mood, aren't you?" Maedhros says hoarsely.

"Oh, yes. Are you?"

"Absolutely. And in a hurry too."

Maedhros suddenly falls back on the bed, dragging Fingon with him and laughing when he yelps.

"You villain!" Fingon cries. "I will make you pay for this!"

"You are welcome to try," Maedhros teases, still laughing, and Fingon shuts him up by promptly kissing his mouth.

Maedhros moans and bucks his hips. Their spirits rush toward each other, eager to join. Fingon basks in the feeling of oneness — one spirit, one breath, one heart beating for the two of them. 

Maedhros's fingers are in his hair, as he kisses Fingon back with the same fervor Fingon does. He is hard too, Fingon feels his cock against his thigh. He licks his lips. He remembers so clearly the taste of it, the shape of it, the weight of it in his mouth, the exact sounds Maedhros used to make as Fingon licked and sucked. 

They aren't there yet. They have pleasured each other, but not in all the ways they used to. Many things are still off limits, though Maedhros is getting stronger and bolder day by day. 

Fingon looks at Maedhros, his heart full of joy and affection. Maedhros stops kissing him, raises his eyebrow, grinning.

"What?" he says.

Fingon shakes his head and peppers his face with sloppy kisses. Maedhros exclaims in mock disgust and pokes Fingon in the ribs.

"How dare you!" Fingon cries.

He grabs Maedhros by the wrist and the stump, careful not to hurt him, and pins his arms above his head.

"Aha!" he says. "Got you."

He rubs his thigh against Maedhros's cock and swallows his moan in a kiss. Still keeping his arms in his grip, Fingon sits up, traps Maedhros between his legs, presses his ass on his crotch, shivering as a delicious gasp leaves Maedhros's lips. Fingon's own cock is straining against his clothes, so he doesn't intend to tease Maedhros for long.

"Do you yield?" he asks, rocking his hips.

Maedhros shudders and twists, but not with enough force to get free, though Fingon knows he can if he wants.

"Well?" he asks, panting, impatient, his mind clouded with arousal. 

"Finno?" Maedhros asks softly.

"What is it, Russo?"

"Let me go?"

The question — because it is a question, as though Maedhros is unsure not only if his request will be granted, but also if he should have made it at all — asked in the quietest of whispers, pierces Fingon's heart like a dagger.

He lets go of Maedhros's arms and gets off him, lying down next to him and propping himself up on his elbow. "Better?"

"Oh." There is an expression of wonder on Maedhros's face and it just drives the dagger deeper. "You let go."

"Sure I did," Fingon says. His voice is slightly trembling. "You asked me to."

Maedhros looks at him and frowns. "I upset you," he says.

Fingon curses himself under his breath. He can never hide anything. His face always gives him away.

"I am sorry," Maedhros says and before Fingon can reply, he brings his shaking arms together and presents them to Fingon. "You can do it. It wasn't even that uncomfortable. I don't know why I complained. I didn't mean to. Do it again. I can-I can hold still... No, no, I don't know if I can. But you could-you..." His breath hitches and Fingon wants to stop him, to comfort him, but if he opens his mouth now, only sobs will come out. "You could tie me up," Maedhros says miserably. His look is distant. "I won't complain. You can-you can g-gag me to make sure, but there's no need, I promise. I won't talk. I won't."

"Russo," Fingon says with a great effort. He cups Maedhros's face and looks into his eyes, tries to pull his mind back from wherever it has wandered to. "Russo, do you know where you are? Do you know who I am?"

Maedhros thinks for a moment and nods.

"Do you think that I would _ever_ do anything, knowing that it frightens, hurts or upsets you?"

It takes a little longer for Maedhros to answer. "No?"

"No," Fingon says. He barely notices the tears running down his face. "Never. I wasn't upset because you asked me to let you go. I was upset because, well, because of everything that has been done to you. I was glad that you asked me that. I give you my word, I was so glad."

"You were?"

"Yes! Remember, we talked about this? We agreed that if I do something you don't like or don't want to do, you will tell me to stop. You did just that."

"Oh." Maedhros seems more present now, but Fingon holds back a relieved breath because he still looks wretched. "And then I went and ruined everything again."

"You ruined nothing. What happened after was just a setback, which doesn't deny what came before. I'm so proud of you. I know how hard it is for you."

"It should not be hard," Maedhros mutters.

"Russo," Fingon says, "It is so very hard that I can't imagine how you do it. My love for you knows no bounds, yet every day it grows along with my pride for your strength, as I watch you overcome your struggles."

His heart soars with joy as Maedhros finally smiles. 

"Alright," he says, apparently deciding to let himself believe it for now. "I love you too, Finno." He shuffles closer. "Can we kiss again?" he asks almost shyly.

Fingon grins. "Right now, there is nothing I want more."


End file.
